


Cater to You

by VanillaSnow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:54:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaSnow/pseuds/VanillaSnow
Summary: Hinata takes good care of his husband.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 105





	Cater to You

Atsumu steps out of his car and puffs out an irritated sigh, the coldness of the winter night turning his breath into a cloud. He slams the car door shut.

The law firm he currently works at might as well be a living hell manifested from his worst nightmares. No, really. His coworkers _have_ to have been handpicked from Satan himself and plopped down in the same agency. And if that isn’t the case, Atsumu has this theory that he’s been thinking about for a while, that some higher ups must be paying his coworkers some good cash money. For what, you may ask? Their only objective being to annoy the ever loving shit out of him each and every shift with no breaks. It seems like that’s all they do all day anyway.

Now he knows that it’s (probably) not possible, ...there has to be _some_ law or shit to prevent that from happening, and even then, the job pays the bills quite nicely so it’s not that big a deal. Still though. He has each and every right to be in a shitty mood if he so pleases. And right now, the warm orange light that glowed around his house windows has never looked more inviting, so he makes quick work of taking his keys out of his pocket and shoving it in the door knob. 

Right away, he can hear faint music playing from the kitchen, _The Pixies_ for god’s sake, and as he shuts the door behind him, the corners of his lips are already involuntarily perking up into a grin.

“Babe?”

No answer. He inquires further.

“...Outside there’s a box car waiting! Take me way to nowhere lands!” 

Atsumu makes his way into the kitchen to find Shouyou, belting to _Here Comes Your Man_ as he uses a large mixing spoon as his microphone. 

Very interesting. Atsumu’s eyebrows rise to his hairline as he watches his tiny husband shuffle his feet to the upbeat tune, and the sight is actually so ridiculous that he struggles to stifle his laughter. After a few more seconds to let the sight fully sink into his brain, he decides enough is enough, and places his briefcase on the kitchen counter with a bit more force than usual. Shouyou stops in the middle of a particularly high note. 

“Shit…” The microphone (spoon) drops from his hands and he scampers to lower the volume on the little bluetooth speaker set up on the counter. Then he turns back to Atsumu, with the damn goofiest smile on his face, and wipes his hands on the thigh portion of his khakis as he walks over.

“Welcome home, Blondie.” 

Atsumu rolls his eyes playfully at that god awful nickname he told him to stop using ages ago.

“Really, Shouyou? _Here Comes Your Man?_ ” 

“Don’t hate on my music, ‘Tsumu, we talked about this!” Shouyou yells defensively, like he was truly offended at Atsumu’s jab to his music taste. But Shouyou has always been way too expressive for his own good, and the small grin on his face said otherwise.

“C’mhere, you dumbass.” 

A satisfying warmth floods Atsumu’s chest as he pulls Shouyou close and into a crushing embrace. Shouyou immediately goes slack in his hold, slouches his shoulders and allows Atsumu to hold his entire weight up. This is no difficult task, Shouyou has always been a tiny little thing.

“How was work?” 

Shouyou’s voice is muffled against his dress shirt, but even then it is still so soft and sincere and velvety in a way that has never failed to make Atsumu feel like he was melting. He rests his chin on the mop that is Shouyou’s hair and allows himself to revel in the way Shouyou glides his hands up and down his back, soothing and comforting. His husband’s touch has always been something Atsumu daydreamed about while working long hours for as long as he can remember, a great incentive to get him through the day.

 _This_ is what he works for, he thinks, as he tangles his fingers in wild red hair. 

“The worst, actually. My coworkers can be such asshats, and the urge to just fuckin’ curse them off is too strong. It’s been a long night.”

“Really? How so?” Shouyou asks, voice amused from Atsumu suffering it seems. 

“Oh, just the usual, y'know. Them sittin’ around being useless shits. Bugging me with stupid questions every second of the day. Getting in my way all the time. Nothing too crazy.”

“Let me take care of you, then?” 

Shouyou pulls away from their hug to meet his gaze, and Atsumu’s heart skips a beat or two when he sees how Shouyou’s large eyes have already grown serious, burning with intensity. When Shouyou gets like this, only an utter fool would attempt to change whatever he has his mind set on, but Atsumu has never been considered book smart and so he tries anyway.

“You don’t have to do that. I know you’re tired too.” 

And that’s not debatable, either. Shouyou works a day just as long as him, but he leaves the house earlier, which means he always gets home an hour or two before.

“That doesn’t matter! You never let me spoil you and it’s really annoying, you know that, right?” 

Shouyou’s determination pulls a smile out of him, a soft one that’s barely there as he reaches up to sweep strands of his long hair out of the way, tucking it behind his ear. Butterflies fill his chest as he takes in the sight of him. He’s so beautiful, gorgeous in that non-conventional way that still manages to make his heart constrict after all these years. His orange-red hair has never dimmed down, eye-catching and unbelievably striking against the paleness of his milky skin. 

One may think that having a husband this gorgeous would be a 100% positive thing. Do not be fooled like he was. It is damn tiring sending threatening glares towards both women and men who had no problem staring him down when they walked the streets. It made Atsumu feel like unintentionally snatched himself a trophy husband or somethin’. But he also quickly decided a few weeks into their relationship that the occasional jealousy he had to endure was utterly worth it, because at the end of the day, the one who came home to an eager and waiting Hinata Shouyou was him.

Plus, it wasn’t like the intensity of their relationship has died down either, like he thought could and would probably happen. Seeing those boring old couples on TV as a child never quite sat right with him. A life full of worn down love seat chairs and boring things; like knitting sweaters? Utterly gross. He would rather Osamu punch him like, a million times in the face before he would let that happen.

If anything, he could argue the exact opposite happened instead, which he was grateful for. The fire that burned searing hot inside his chest could only grow so large before it consumed him completely. Shouyou had sucked him straight into his orbit the first time they met, like he does mostly with everyone who crosses his path. Atsumu was just lucky enough to grab the right kind of attention.

And now here they were: Married and happy and wildly in love. The lengths Atsumu would go to please his little spitfire of a husband was quite dangerous, and he strongly advised against asking where he drew the line. Also, he would also rather not have to dump his burdens onto Shouyou if he doesn’t have to.

“I don’t need to be spoiled.” 

The look of frustration on Shouyou’s face is adorable, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance as he fiddles with Atsumu’s tie, long dark eyelashes lowered.

“Of course nobody _needs_ to be spoiled, idiot. But it's always nice. And tonight, you are gonna let me, okay?”

Shouyou nods his head toward the kitchen, a silent invitation, taking Atsumu’s still-frozen hands as they walk over to a metal pot. Steam escapes through the sides, drifting into the space above it and up the ceiling.

Shouyou lifts the pan cover off with a little sound effect, _‘pwuahhh!’_ and Atsumu is hit with a wave of fondness at his husband’s stupidity _and_ savory smoke, the rumble in his stomach reminding him just how starved he is.

“It’s that Italian pasta you really like!” Shouyou turns his shoulders to face him. “We can have a glass of wine or two...maybe watch a movie, wind down a bit?”

Atsumu stares at the pot of incredible looking pasta for a bit, wondering what he did in his past life to deserve an angel as a spouse. Jutting out his bottom lip, he turns his head to look Shouyou in the eyes. “I don't deserve you.”

Shouyou smacks him upside the head, and not lightly either. 

“Ow!” Atsumu yelps but then he’s quickly being tugged by the collar of his dress shirt and pulled down to his husband's face level. Shouyou whispers against his lips, “You need to know when to shut the hell up, sometimes. Only because I could say the exact same thing.” 

And then he’s kissing him, nice and slow and unrushed and tough love has never felt so sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are greatly appreciated !! :D hope u enjoyed this domestic atsuhina


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